


Don't tell Dad

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Big Brother Dean, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt Sam Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Parental Bobby Singer, Protective Dean Winchester, Rape/Non-con Elements, Secrets, Underage Sex, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-31 05:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19419607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: He was just hungry. He didn't think that opening the door would cause so many issues





	1. Little Sammy

**Author's Note:**

> Angst. Poor Sammy, he really does get hurt in my fics

Sam was starving. His brother had gone to get them food, and probably illegally get beer for himself, and so Sam was left in the crappy motel room. It wasn’t that bad, hunting with just Dean made him less angry, even if he knew it was wrong for an eighteen-year-old to have too look after him. Sam hoped that, when he was bigger, he would be able to look after Dean like he did for him. Keeping that thought in mind, the fourteen-year-old Winchester packed their guns into the duffel bag, ready to go on the next mission.

This one had been a ghost. Their Dad had specifically sent them on it, telling them he had a lead to chase up that probably involved the thing that killed Mom. Sam tried not to think too much about that, finishing packing the weapons as the door knocked. He grinned, long legs running across to let his brother in the motel room because he’d probably left his key.

Sam was tall for his age, he knew that, but he was cursed with a rather pretty face. It would lead to hours of torment from Dean, who loved to make fun of his girly features. Sam agreed, his eyes were too expressive, hair framing his face making his eyes the centre of attention. His long limbs proved he’d be tall one day, but he couldn’t grow into them, nor would they fill out with muscles like he so desperately wanted. Unfortunately, it drew attention at school.

He threw the door open, hands outstretched for the burger Dean would have bought him, stopping when a middle-aged man stood in the doorway. Sam took a step back, the man lunging forwards with a cloth, and Sam watched as he stepped over the salt lines. His heart froze, this was a human? What did it want? He lunged for the weapons bag, an arm wrapping around his waist as the door banged shut and something closed over his nose and mouth.

When he did this with Dean, Sam rarely managed to get out from under him. Whatever was being inhaled into his lungs was making him sleepy, and Sam’s limbs didn’t listen to his order to fight, instead became heavy and tired. He was scooped up, dumped onto his brother’s bed, _Dean wouldn’t forgive him_ , and hands roamed up his chest.

‘Such a pretty boy, I know Daddy’s not around, and your brother isn’t here.’ Sam had enough sense to try and recognise the person, horror at the fact this was the man who had booked them in over a week ago. He’d watched John leave in his truck, Dean’s Impala probably wasn’t in the motel lot, and Sam was really screwed. He didn’t know what the man wanted, not until hands undid his shirt and belt, and then Sam tried to fight.

Whatever he’d been drugged with, it really wasn’t helping. Tears streamed down his face as he was flipped onto his stomach, felt something hit his back that probably would bruise badly later. The screams that he wanted to get out wouldn’t come, the only thing that left his mouth was a low whining noise. It was stopped when he was punched, vision going blurry as a hand wrapped around the back of his neck and shoved his head down into the mattress.

He tried to hold his breath, felt himself going lightheaded before hands wrapped into his hair, _Dean was right, he really should cut it,_ and yanked his head up. He sucked in air, felt something slip around his neck and realised in horror that it was the man’s belt. It was yanked hard, Sam gasping as his oxygen was yet again cut off, limbs still refusing to cooperate. The man moved in front, kneeling on the bed, a weird look of pleasure on his face.

With one hand keeping his oxygen supply cut off, the other undid the buttons of his jeans, and Sam tried to wriggle away. His body just looked like a worm, flapping uselessly as he stared in horror at the size of the man’s dick. Despite Dean’s teasing, Sam had never actually been with a girl, or guy, and this was certainly not the time to be worrying about that. _Dean would know what to do._ Sam found his nose being pinched, and eventually he had to open his mouth to let oxygen in, but maybe it would have been better to pass out. It hurt, the taste was revolting, and Sam heard the receptionist groan in satisfaction.

‘If you bite, I’ll cut yours off.’ He warned, and Sam watched as the hand holding the belt dropped, reaching for a switchblade. Sam’s limbs still weren’t working, the only thing moving was his head, held in place by a hand in his hair. The switchblade pressed to his collarbone, he tried yet again gasping, but instead swallowed around the man’s length, who groaned happily.

When he finally got his mouth back, Sam breathed in as heavily as he could, his mind blurring from the sudden rush in oxygen. That was then all pushed out when hands gripped his bare ass, and he screamed. Would have screamed, it was more a horrible wheezing sound, and he cried more. Sobbed, horribly, drool mixing with tears and snot as it trailed down his face. The man behind him was babbling, words like tight and hot and so good. His hips were pushed forwards onto the bed, not that it did anything for him, and Sam wished, no, prayed his brother would find him.

Heat erupted in his ass, the guy groaning as his hips faltered, and Sam was pleased to note that men had a longer refractory period than women. Well, that was what Dean had told him. He tried to move, his limbs making groggy movements as he heard the man behind him get dressed. When he crouched down, Sam tried to pull away, but the man just smiled.

‘You think your brother will ever forgive you if he finds out? Weak, cowardly, stupid little brother.’ The man said with a smirk, patting Sam’s head like he was a dog, and the younger Winchester curled up slightly, the throbbing behind him worse than anything he’d experienced, and cried some more. It took a while for all the tears to end, before he pushed off of the bed, looking to the bathroom. Right, he could clean himself up, he just needed a shower, then everything would fall into place. Checking the door was locked, he scooped the clothes of the floor and awkwardly waddled to the bathroom, each step sending pain as he limped.


	2. Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean comes back to the motel

The sight was the worse part, he thought in horror. He had only realised what the dripping sound was when he looked down, realising that he was bleeding onto the tiled floor. That had driven him to lock the bathroom door, then turned back to the mirror. His face was swollen on one side, a dark bruise already forming. His lips were swollen, his jaw ached, and he had trails of tears drying down his face. The bruising around his neck was worse, dark and unavoidable to Dean’s gaze.

He dropped the clothes, looked at the bruising on his wrists and hips, then turned his back to the mirror. One horrid looking red line ran across, already bruising, and Sam flinched slightly. He had to do something about the blood and the other stuff between his thighs, he realised, then wonder how he was going to explain this to Dean. He could wear high-collared shirts for a while, tell him he got the bruise from falling into the table?

But his brother wasn’t stupid, and Sam didn’t know how to deal with this. He presumed the bleeding would stop, that all he needed to do was to make sure he got clean. He turned the shower on, wobbling slightly as he did so. The room swayed, and Sam sat down sharpish, trying not to cry as he felt pain in his ass. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he heard the door open to the motel room, and he tried to bite back a sob at the thought of the receptionist coming back.

‘Bitch, I got you a burger, stop jerking off and… Sammy?’ The younger relaxed, then wondered why his brother had stopped speaking. He then thought about the obvious fact that if he was bleeding in here, then he had been bleeding on Dean’s bed, and Sam… Oh God, Sam had left blood on Dean’s bed! His brother was going to be so mad!

‘Sammy, open the door.’ Sam didn’t honestly think he could move, but he needed to assure Dean that he was alright, so he thought words would work. The shower was on, so it would give the excuse that he was indeed in the shower.

‘I’m f-fine.’ He cursed the weakness in his voice, his throat felt sore, really sore, and Sam made a mental note to gargle some antiseptic liquid to help prevent any infection. He wasn’t entirely sure why his mind instantly went to the logical side of things, maybe his brother was right, he was a nerd.

‘Sam, open the door now.’ That was angry Dean, the one that was demanding and just as scary as John. He only used that voice when Sam really messed up, and the young Hunter sobbed, then tried to cover his mouth to hide the sound, only to hear his brother growl. Growl, like a werewolf. _He must be really mad._

‘If you don’t open the door, Sam, I’m going to kick it down.’ Dean was definitely going to find out. And then Sam would lose his brother, and the Impala, and every sense of normality that he’d ever had. Or worse, Dean would tell John, and then HE would have a go at Sam, telling him off for not being stronger.

‘I… can’t.’ He muttered, knowing it would hurt to try and reach it. His brother swore softly, footsteps faded from the door, then returned. The unmistakeable sound of his brother picking the long rang out, and Sam grabbed some clothes to try and cover his junk, knowing it was stupid when his brother was about to walk in on him in a pool of his own blood. The lock clicked, Dean opening the door, and emerald eyes found his immediately.

Anger. The first thing that crossed Dean’s face, followed by worry. His brother was on the floor beside him before Sam could even think of saying anything, hands gripping his body, and Sam realised how much he was shaking.

‘M’sorry.’ Sam muttered, feeling his head start to spin, watching Dean study the bruising, then his eyes widening in understanding.

‘Don’t tell Dad.’ Was the last thing he muttered before he passed out, hearing Dean shout his name as Sam’s head tipped to the side, falling into the embrace of his elder brother.

**

Pain. If the dream he had been having wasn’t bad enough, the pain he woke to when he shot forwards was worse. Someone was saying his name, he thought, but was too busy trying to get away from the hands that were holding him, trying to get the hell away from whoever decided they were going to touch him. When he realised he was sitting on leather, his head turned to the seat, smelling… home. The Impala, the thought, and then realised the hands trying to steady him were none other than Dean’s.

‘Safe.’ He muttered, realising the car had stopped and he crawled forwards, head reaching his brother’s lap, and tucked in as tightly as possible to the older man. His brother was talking, saying something Sam couldn’t really hear, but the Winchester didn’t need to hear it.

Dean hadn’t left him. Dean had brought him to his Baby, and he hadn’t left. He was in the car with Dean, and that was the safest place on Earth for him to be, so he was quite happy to curl up closer. Dean, even if he was mad at Sam for getting himself into the situation, wasn’t going to let someone do it again, and that meant he was a good place to be.

If Dean was angry at him curling up, the tone of words coming out of his mouth didn’t show it, and the car sped back up again. A hand rested on his head, and for a moment the Winchester froze, remembering hands tugging at his hair and the lack of oxygen and _Oh god, it hurt,_ but then the voice came back, and although the words were indistinguishable, it was definitely Dean, and so he relaxed. He kept himself small, hoping to not annoy his brother with all his gangly limbs, and pressed close to the smell of his brother.

Safe, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to forget the images that flicked behind the closed eyes, the odd sounds that made him feel like he was choking again. His hand reached for his throat, realised that there was nothing wrapped around it, and he sighed slightly. He could breathe, there was nothing wrong, he was safe. He repeated it over and over, until eventually he became too exhausted to stay away, and felt the darkness swim back over his mind.

He didn’t even consider where they were going. If Dean was taking him somewhere, it was safe, and therefore he had no needs to even worry about it. Dean wouldn’t let the receptionist do something to him again.


	3. Singer Salvage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes Sam the only place he knows as home

Dean didn’t know what to do. Even as he pulled into the yard, having driven for thirteen hours with only stops for Gas, he didn’t know what to do. Bobby was out of the house in a flash, probably because Dean had called him crying, sobbing on the floor as he held his brother. Half of him wanted to hunt the sonofabitch down, the other, the more compelling half, told him he needed to get his brother safe.

And Sam had the audacity to say sorry. Like he thought Dean would be mad. He scooped his baby brother out of the car, not caring that he slammed the door slightly too harshly as he walked towards his Uncle. Even he looked shocked, staring at the Burrito that was his baby brother in his arms.

‘I’ve got a doctor.’ Bobby stated, and Dean just dumbly nodded, following him into the house without a second thought.

**

He sat in the kitchen, nursing a mug of hot chocolate as he waited for Bobby to come and tell him what was wrong with his brother. The Doctor had been a woman, one that had gently told Dean that he should wait outside while she checked him. Boy, Dean had wanted to argue, but one look from Bobby was enough to have him in the kitchen waiting for them to come back out.

His thoughts were cut off when his phone rang, and Dean looked down to see his father’s caller ID. He knew, on some basic level, that he couldn’t hide this from him forever. That eventually, Dean would have to tell Dad that he let his baby brother be… raped. The word made his stomach twist, but he still picked up the phone, answering it. Whatever John did, he deserved it.

‘Dad.’ He answered hesitantly, and he knew that he would pick up on it.

‘Dean, where the Hell are you?’ So, John had been watching them. Dean thought back to the motel room, to his bed covered in blood and… stuff he didn’t want to think about.

‘At Bobby’s. Dad, someone hurt Sam.’ The words tasted foul, made his mind scream in protest, telling him that he should be in there by his brother’s side, not trying to hide in the kitchen.

‘What do you mean, Sam’s hurt?’ He demanded, and Dean heard the engine roar. Before he could speak, the phone was plucked from his hand, Bobby giving him a look. One that told him he could go and see Sam, so he didn’t hesitate, leaving Bobby to deal with his Dad and went to find his little brother.

**

‘He’ll need to take these, one in the morning and one at night. One of these a day, and pain meds when needed.’ The Doctor explained, although Dean didn’t really care. Didn’t care about anything, apart from his baby brother, who was curled up asleep on the bed. She sighed, left the tablet pots where they were, then left the room. Dean made sure the door was shut before kicking off his shoes and jeans, slipping under the sheets next to his brother.

Sam turned, as if it was instinct, and curled close to his brother. Dean watched with a slight smile, he always believed that Sam was part-octopus, and this was just further proof of that. Silently, he wrapped an arm around his younger brother, making sure that he was pressed to his side. At least there, nobody could hurt him. Not without going through him first, and he would put up one hell of a fight.

He shouldn’t have left. Dean should have known something was going to happen, should have warned his brother about perverted old men that would try and have their way with his soft, baby-faced brother. Dean fought back tears, buried his face into the mop of brown hair on his brother’s head, and allowed himself to relax. Whether Sammy would forgive him or not would be the issue.

‘De?’ His brother muttered, eyes flicking open and looking up. Dean pulled back, staring at the confused hazel eyes, and felt part of his soul rip away at the look of hurt on his face.

‘It’s okay, Sammy. You’re safe, I’m here now.’ Dean promised, pulling him closer. They hadn't done this since they were little, since Sam had gone through puberty and got all moody. But now, as Sam began sobbing quietly into the neck of Dean’s shirt, the elder Winchester would have it no other way.

‘I promise you, Sammy, that I’m going to kill him. Hunt him down and make him pay.’ His mind saw red, imagined ripping apart the man that dare lay a finger on HIS Sammy, on his innocent baby brother. Sam stopped crying, but the shaking continued, and Dean kept hold of him to try and ground him.

‘S’my fault.’ He slurred, voice low and droopy, like he was fighting sleep. Dean felt bile threaten to rise at the statement, shoving down the urge to punch several walls as he tucked an arm around his brother’s waist, careful of the bruising and the belt mark on his back.

‘No, Sam, it isn’t your fault.’ He assured the younger, who tucked his head under Dean’s neck, like it was the safest place in the world. It was, Dean thought, knowing that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt Sam like that again if he had the choice.

‘W-watched me. H-hotel r-r-r…’ He stuttered, struggling to get the words out, but the sinking feeling in Dean’s gut meant he already knew how that sentence was going to end.

‘Receptionist?’ He said lowly, glad his brother wasn’t looking at his face right now. Tears fell freely as his brother hiccupped a sob, then nodded, and Dean pulled the covers up tighter around the two of them.

‘Never again, Sammy. Won’t let him get you.’ He promised, and it was a promise, because Dean was going to go and find that man, find him and kill him. Sam didn’t say anything else, apparently the strain was too much and he fell asleep, still pressed tight against Dean. The older brother just lay there, staring up at the ceiling and wondering why in hell he had allowed someone to do that. How he hadn't noticed the looks the man had given his baby brother.

**

‘John’s coming here.’ Bobby stated, and Dean looked up. He managed two hours of sleep before his baby brother woke up screaming, and Dean had calmed him down with Bobby standing in the doorway, watching as he hushed and soothed and assured Sam that nobody was coming to hurt him, that Dean wouldn’t let it happen.

‘He’ll want to know.’ Dean pointed out, thinking to Sam’s adamant statement, “Don’t tell Dad”. Technically, he wasn’t breaking that rule, Bobby was. That would be the way they would get around it.

‘I’ll tell him then, idgit.’ Silence fell in the kitchen, nobody bothering to speak, until eventually Bobby asked the question Dean knew he wanted to ask since they first walked in through that door.

‘Do you know who…’

‘Yes.’ He cut off, not wanting to think about the receptionist, not wanting to remember the coffee-stained breath and the way his eyes had lingered for slightly too long on Sam, yet he’d never questioned it. Neither had John, in all fairness, but it wasn’t a lot of use now. Dean sighed, placed his head in his hands, and was glad that he had cried his eyes out already.

‘Don’t you worry, son, your daddy will know what to do.’ Bobby said, even though both of them knew that was a lie. It was comforting, nonetheless.


	4. John Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst and some feels

John did not know what to do. Dean was the one that had to explain what had happened to his baby brother, had to tell his Dad that he had let someone hurt Sam. John listened, face the picture of confusion, and Bobby shifted awkwardly in the chair. Silence fell in the Singer household, John just staring at Dean, the younger Hunter trying to avoid his gaze.

‘I’m sorry, what?’ John blurted, and Dean looked anywhere but at his Dad. In the end, he looked to Bobby for help. Maybe Dean hadn't been blunt enough, he thought, but that turned out to be a useless idea, because Bobby went straight for it.

‘John, someone raped Sam.’ Dean flinched, thinking back to the blood in the room and the way Sam begged him not to tell Dad. This was going to be so awkward.

‘Are… are you sure?’ Dean was disappointed. He expected his Dad to at least have some idea on what to do, but John just looked lost. Not for the first time, Dean wished Mom was here, so that she could talk to Sammy. He was always slightly more emotional than Dean, and the older brother always felt awkward trying to comfort him. Now, though, he knew Sam needed it. Especially when John seemed to be adamant that it didn’t happen.

‘Yes.’ Bobby simply answered, and Dean knew he was annoyed as well. God, Dean should never have gone out. He was late back to the motel, having gone to get beer and had got caught up flirting with the cashier. He should have been there.

‘Who…?’ John inquired, looking to Dean, and the younger was angry about the lack of emotion on his father’s face. Sure, Dad could sometimes be more of a teacher than a father, but this was different. Sammy was hurt, and he needed his Dad.

‘The receptionist who checked us in, I think.’ Dean stated, thinking to what Sammy had said. He did intend to hunt him down, as soon as Sam was okay. And only if his brother agreed, because he needed Sam to understand that this wasn’t his fault.

‘You think?’ John snapped, anger lacing the tone, and Dean realised that it was going to be blamed on him. Bobby looked between them, Dean opening and shutting his mouth as words didn’t come out. John was looking angrier than Dean had thought he would be, but why was it aimed at him?

‘Well? Why haven’t you dealt with it?’ So, John wanted him dead as well. That made sense. Dean fought to keep his tone calm, reminding himself that Dad didn’t mean to get mad at him, he just got angry when Sam was hurt.

‘Because I had to get Sam out of there. If he wants, I’ll go back…’

‘Wants? We’re going back, hunting him down, and making him pay.’ John growled out, gripping the beer he was holding so tightly that Dean thought it would break. Bobby leant forwards, probably going to try and diffuse the tension in the room, but it was broken when Sam walked in. Well, limped in. Dean turned his attention immediately to his baby brother, who ignored the three of them and went to grab a soda.

‘Hey Sammy.’ Dean said, hoping his brother would answer. Sure enough, Sam turned and looked to him, a smile breaking out. Dean ignored the bruises and ugly marks marring his little brother’s skin, focusing on the fact that Sam was up and about.

‘Hi. Everything alright?’ He glanced to Dad, then back to Dean, who looked to his father. John, ever the blunt-man, jumped right onto the problem.

‘We’re going back to the motel, and you’re going to point out the man that… hurt you.’ John stated, and even Dean felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Sam shuddered slightly, eyes widened, and Dean could recognise the symptoms of a panic attack starting. But John didn’t notice, continuing on like this was a simple Hunt.

‘He’s a human, so we’ll have to be careful, but it shouldn’t be too difficult. You can have the last shot, if you want.’ Dean knew that John struggled to understand Sam, struggled to understand why the boy preferred reading about the Supernatural rather than Hunting. But that sentence, the way he spoke it, it made it seem like John was saying that Sam should have been able to deal with a human hurting him.

The glass shattered in Sam’s hand, eyes wide and breathing way to fast, and Dean was by his side before his brother could lose consciousness. His brother was all limbs and skinniness, but it didn’t stop Dean from moving him away from the glass, into the living room. Down onto the couch, Sam breathing like he was running from a werewolf rather than just listening to Dad. Dean took one hand, the one that was less injured and bruised, and placed it over his own heart. He then wrapped a hand around Sam’s neck gently, voice low as he spoke.

‘Slow, Sam. You’re alright, you’re safe. Deep breaths, in and out. That’s it.’ He soothed, gentle voice as he watched Sam’s eyes flick up, then back down to his lap. The hand that wasn’t on Dean’s heart was digging into his thigh, and Dean knew it would cause marks, even through the jeans.

‘In, out. Remember that ice-cream shop in Oregon? The one that you visited every day after school and wouldn’t tell me?’ Sam looked up, this time not dropping the gaze, and Dean knew he was getting through to his little brother.

‘Thought it was a girl, Sammy, until I stalked you and found out you were eating ice cream with that guy, Dylan.’ Sam snorted, shaking his head as a smile tugged at his lips. His breathing steadied, and Dean was rewarded with a classic Bitchface.

‘The Impala isn’t good for stalking, Dean. It’s the most obvious car in the world.’ Dean looked mock-offended.

‘That’s my baby you’re insulting, bitch.’ He stated, glaring at his baby brother, who shoved him away.

‘She deserves it, Jerk.’ Dean couldn’t help the smile at hearing his brother respond like that. Whatever happened to his little brother, at least Sam still trusted him.

‘C’mon, you need feeding.’ He stated, determined to lighten the situation. He pushed past his Dad, who was standing in the doorway, and went about making something for Sam to eat. Only when his little brother was settled in the room eating, chatting away with Bobby, did Dean speak to his Dad.

‘Don’t do that again. This isn’t a Hunt, this isn’t something you can forget. Sam’s hurt.’ Dean snapped, the only time he would actually argue with his Dad was over Sam.

**

Later, lying in the single bed next to Sam, who had refused to sleep alone, Sam said something that Dean really hadn't expected. Of course, maybe he should have asked before, but he had never even imagined…

‘Dylan was my boyfriend. Not my friend.’ Dean fell silent, before ruffling his hair.

‘How anyone can like you is beyond my understanding.’ Dean joked, before thinking to the fact that someone had obviously liked him a LOT, considering what had happened, and he worried he’d pushed it too far. But Sam just laughed and curled closer.

‘Thanks for understanding, De.’


	5. Dead Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! :)

‘You sure about this?’ Dean inquired, looking across to Sam. His younger brother looked up, hazel eyes filled with worry and guilt and so many emotions, ones that made the elder flinch. His brother was always so open, but that had changed in the three weeks since the… incident. Sam hadn't openly talked about it, nobody had pushed, although Dean was the one who had to listen to his brother crying late at night when he thought Dean was asleep.

Dad had been better. He had let the two stay at Bobby’s house, had allowed them to settle there while Sam recovered from the physical injuries. Most of the bruising was gone, faint marks where hands had touched rather than the ugly purples they had been at the beginning. Not only that, but John had laid of Sam’s training, allowing the boy to go to school and do homework rather than pushing him to train.

‘I’m sure.’ Sam said, looking to the house. Dean had tracked him down, the man named Mark Adams, who had hurt his baby brother.

‘Now, Sammy, I’m doing the talking. And when it comes to… the end, you’re leaving the room.’ Sam nodded his head, not taking his eyes of the building. Dean was slightly worried that his brother wasn’t going to get through this, but John had insisted that Sam go. Bobby had, very wisely, stayed out of that conversation.

Dean bit back a smirk when the door opened, watched as the man stumbled back, Dean stepping over the threshold. Sam followed, but Dean could see his hands shaking, knew his baby brother wasn’t as “fine” as he had insisted.

‘Mr Adams, why don’t you take a seat?’ Dean stated calmly, gesturing to the kitchen chair, watched as the man stared between it and Dean.

‘Get out of my house.’ He snarled, reaching for a knife on the side, but Dean moved before he had the chance. Turning the man with ease, he slammed him down onto the worksurface, breaking his nose and then threw him into the chair. Dean crouched down, staring into the wide eyes of the man in front, blood dribbling down his nose. Sam was standing in the doorway, watching but not moving.

‘Let’s try that again, sit down.’ Dean snarled, watching as the man’s eyes drifted across to Sam. Just the way he looked, the smug smile that crossed his face, Dean knew that he shouldn’t have brought his baby brother into the house.

‘Hello again, pretty boy.’ He didn’t get to speak again, because Dean threw a punch that shattered the man’s jaw. Sam made a sound, disappearing out of the door they had come in from. Half of him wanted to go after him, the other half was more focused on the guy that evidently realised he wasn’t getting out of this situation alive.

‘What’re you going to do? Kill me?’ He said with a laugh, blood staining his teeth as he grinned. Dean gave a grin to match, and the man seemed to realise that was a legitimate option.

‘You hurt my brother, and I’m going to make you suffer for that.’ Dean explained, placing the gun that had been tucked into his belt onto the side, in clear view of the man that had made the biggest mistake of his life. He then reached for the knife, twirling it a he regarded the man opposite.

‘It was worth it.’ The guy stated, spitting blood in Dean’s direction, and the boy fought to keep his temper in check.

‘You’re nothing but a low-life scumbag, nobody’s going to look for you, and if they do, they’re going to find some pretty convincing evidence to your perverted nature.’ Dean exclaimed calmly, tracing the knife down the man’s arm. He didn’t pull back, which surprised Dean, but he tried not to show it.

‘Get it over with, then.’ Mark Adams said, and Dean was tempted to just do it. But his father had told him to make the man suffer, and Dean couldn’t let his baby brother down on his promise to make him hurt.

‘See, where’s the fun in that?’ He pushed the knife deeper, slicing down into the skin, but the man still didn’t move.

‘You should know, he screamed like a whore. Cried and begged so prettily.’ Dean dug slightly deeper than he wanted, but he pulled back, even though the words hit something in him that made him want to cry.

‘You shut your mouth.’ He snapped, moving to the other arm.

‘Was so hot and tight, little virginal ass was…’ Dean punched him, and the guy coughed up blood, but it didn’t shut him up. The guy grinned, smirking at Dean’s shaking anger.

‘And his mouth! Hot and wet and delicious, you should try…’ Dean pushed the knife into his stomach, the guy actually looking surprised as he gasped, and Dean took a step back. He watched the blood stain the floor, waited till the man was definitely dead, then sunk down to the kitchen floor.

**

The body disposed of, the house cleaned, all tracks disappeared, Dean drove Sam back to Bobby’s. His brother was silent, except for the tears that kept sliding down his cheeks, and Dean wished he knew what to say. All he could think about were the words, what the man had said.

‘Was my first time.’ Sam finally said, and Dean’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. He’d suspected, deep down, that his brother hadn't been with anyone. Girl or boy, thanks to the revelation three weeks ago. But that didn’t mean he hadn't hoped his brother had been with someone else, hoped that Mark Adams hadn't been the one to take away his brother’s virginity.

‘Only ever kissed a guy.’ He admitted again, and Dean felt the words punch him. Finally, he looked across to his little brother, who was staring out of the window silently.

‘C’mere, Sammy.’ His brother slid across, curled up to Dean’s side, and the older Winchester held him tightly. The guy was dead, Sam was safe, and Dean could work on helping his brother through this.

‘Thanks, Dean.’ Sam stated quietly, and Dean used the hand not holding the wheel to wrap around his brother.

‘You don’t need to thank me, Sammy. It’s a big brother’s job to look after his annoying little brother.’ Sam chuckled, and Dean found himself smiling, forgetting the blood that had stained his hands.

‘I love you, De.’ His baby brother said as he curled up on his lap, tucked himself tightly into the car. Dean hesitated, he knew his brother didn’t expect him to say it back, he never did, but he felt wrong not doing so. His brother had been through so much, the least Dean could do was let the emotions through that he always kept hidden.

‘I love you too, Sammy.’ He felt his brother tense, then practically heard the smile that grew on his face.

‘Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, bitch.’ Sam grinned, before Dean turned the radio up slightly, humming along as his brother relaxed against him.


End file.
